


My Voice

by therantygeek



Category: Doctor Strange (2016)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut, Soulmates, orif kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23043892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therantygeek/pseuds/therantygeek
Summary: Steven Strange has never believed in soulmates. Fortunately, the universe has never cared much about the personal belief systems of Stephen Strange, and a near-miss turns into something far more satisfying when he manages to get his head out of his own ass. A short, fluffy and smutty little one shot for fans of the Sorcerer Supreme.Warnings: smut, fluff, Stephen being typically self-centred, one mildly eyebrow-raising kink relating to ORIF scars (for example, on someone’s hands).
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	My Voice

Stephen Strange didn’t believe in soulmates.

Not that it was a matter of _belief_ , as such. The medical world was rich in studies showcasing pretty indisputable evidence of strong affinities in various functional neuroimaging scans as well as other symptoms, both physiological as well as psychological. When someone heard (well, claimed to hear) their inner voice, the audio match for the self-vocalising tone of their internal thought processes, _something_ definitely happened which seemed to set off the neurological equivalent of fireworks.

He just didn’t think it was worth the amount of time and energy people spent on trying to find their match, their inner voice, their _soulmate_. Yes, he knew that the silent articulation in his head which “vocalised” his thoughts to himself was definitely not the same as his audible voice, and it was undeniably feminine in tone and pitch, but it didn’t have to _mean_ anything. Whatever the still-dubious scientific origins of the dual-voice phenomenon were, he certainly didn’t buy into the idea that the voice in one’s head was one’s destined or perfect romantic partner.

Besides, he had far more important things on his mind, especially since arriving in Tibet.

‘Excuse me…Doctor Strange?’

He’d become unaccustomed enough to being addressed properly by his title that it took him a moment to properly compute that he was being addressed. Glancing back, he had to exert conscious control not to do an actual double-take like something from a bad movie; the woman who’d addressed him was startlingly attractive, swathed in dark robes that marked her as a disciple of Kamar-Taj while also doing nothing to hide the delectable curves of her figure beneath them.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked, a little more curtly than he’d quite intended, but interest gave way fully to irritation when she just blinked big, pretty eyes at him and seemed to be knocked for six by his response.

‘Hello?’ he tried, cocking his head. Was she daft? The deer-in-headlights look didn’t do much for her. ‘I happen to be on my way somewhere, so if you needed something-‘

‘You-‘ then she stopped again ‘-my god. Doctor – uh – Stephen, isn’t it?’

‘Doctor Strange, or just Stephen,’ he replied drolly. ‘And while I’m flattered I’m also supposed to be going to meet the Ancient One in her chambers, so…’

‘I’m sorry.’ The woman seemed to draw herself up and gave her head a little shake as if to clear it. ‘I’m from the London sanctum. Wong said you’d requested access to _Syllabus of Acanthic Rites_ , but I had it – requisitioned to handle a situation with some merrow in the Thames. I’m just bringing it back and thought I’d give it to you directly.’

‘Oh.’ He fought back the instinctual urge to indulge his curiosity – _merrow in the Thames?_ – and accepted the slim tome she proffered with a nod. ‘Well. Thank you. I appreciate the thought.’ Why the hell was she still staring at him like that? ‘Was there something else?’

‘I just wondered if-‘ then she seemed to think better of it from the hint of scorn in his gaze ‘-no. Nothing.’

Rolling his eyes as she hastened away, Stephen resumed his course to the Ancient One’s inner sanctum and flicked open the book to begin scanning it as he went.

It wasn’t until much later, after Kaecilius and Hong Kong and all that came after, when the odd familiarity of the woman’s voice came back to tug at his mind like a niggling loose thread as he stumbled across the same book shoved rather unceremoniously into a spare bookshelf in the New York sanctum. The notion made him pause midway through his inventory, the _Syllabus_ clutched in one still-trembling hand, and frown as the memory returned.

_I just wondered if…_

Her voice! How had he not placed it? He’d been too self-absorbed, utterly intent on his own focus at the time, not even considered the _possibility_ …but there was no denying the audio recollection he’d unwittingly retained. Of course he’d never really given credence to any such possibility anyway but now, after everything he’d seen and done…

Wait.

London.

 _Oh, god_.

He tossed the book aside and made straight for the doors to the temple narthex, barely pausing on the threshold long enough for the cloak to settle itself around his shoulders against the chill evening air of Tibet. Of course Kamar-Taj never truly _slept_ , the time in Kathmandu notwithstanding, but those in semi-permanent residence did tend to adopt the city’s clock…

‘Wong!’

It took a bit of shouting and sent a couple of white-clad initiates scuttling away in mild alarm, but he eventually found the other man sitting under one of the cherry trees with a cup of tea and a bemused expression at being hollered at given the local time.

‘ _Yes_ , Stephen?’

‘The London sanctum. The sorcerers there. Were there any-‘ he had to pause and swallow just to get the words out ‘-were there any survivors?’

‘Yes. Three. They’d been in the city but not the sanctum at the time it was attacked. Why?’

‘Any women?’

Wong’s eyebrows went up.

‘Oh, _shut up_ ,’ Stephen snapped. ‘Was one of the survivors a woman, around my age?’ It took him a moment, the vocal overriding minor elements like physical appearances in his mind, but he was able to put together a reasonable description of her appearance without descending into hyperbole.

Wong gave him an owlish look.

‘If you’re already that desperate for company in the Sanctum-‘

‘Wong, for god’s sake – this is _important_.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I’ve been both an ass and a fool and I need to correct it if I possibly can. This woman, I met her before – very briefly – but I think she’s-‘ again he had to pause, to bite back a short breath that felt suspiciously like it was nearing the realm of panic ‘-I think she’s _my voice_. If she’s dead, if I’ve managed to lose her when the multiverse practically _dropped her_ _in my lap_ …’

‘I think she is alive, from how you describe her.’ Wong actually curved up one corner of his mouth in something vaguely approximating a smile. ‘I take it a photographic memory can also be applied to that which is heard rather than seen, then?’

‘God, I hope so.’

‘She will be in her room at this time of night, I suspect.’

The moment Wong gave him the name to ask for Stephen was off at a rapid stride, barely resisting the urge to break into a sprint. Had the bedamned complex always been so _enormous_ to traverse on foot?

He made himself slow as he approached the residential block, forcing his expression to calm as he stopped a passing acolyte to enquire for more precise directions. Up two flights of stairs, down a short corridor…this was normally the guest quarters for transient pilgrims. Of course, if she’d been living in the London sanctum it would have largely been her home, now destroyed…

Pausing outside the threshold, identical to the half dozen right next to it, he took a breath and lifted one hand to knock before conscious thought could intervene. There was no response, and he abruptly realised that she was likely asleep given the hour and the fact that most sorcerers were habitually early risers. Perhaps he ought to slink away for now, come back at a more humane local time-

-the notion cut itself off immediately when she called from inside for him to enter. It _was_ her, even heard dimly from inside another room; exactly the same pitch and intonation and accent as the voice that had always been in his head whenever he mentally articulated a thought. Forcing away a nervousness as sudden as it was unexpected, Stephen went inside and closed the door carefully but firmly behind himself.

She’d been meditating, sitting on the end of the bed, and only just unfolded herself to stand as he entered. For a moment he indulged in drinking in her presence, in this time properly recognising just how _beautiful_ she was, before flicking his gaze quickly about the rest of the room. It was largely devoid of trappings, as was normal for Kamar-Taj, but the sight of the very well-worn old third-generation iPod parked in a dock on the windowsill caught his eye.

_Comfortably Numb. Pink Floyd, from The Wall in 1979, single released in 1980 with “Hey You” on the B side…_

…she’d been _meditating_ to a late 1970s concept album.

He didn’t know whether to collapse into hysterics or just fall to his knees in front of her and beg forgiveness. No wonder she’d boggled at him, and he as always far too self-absorbed to even _notice_ that his god damned _soulmate_ had been standing right in front of him!

‘Doctor Strange?’ she said; clipped, but still polite, and smoothed down the front of her robes as she stood before cocking her head at him. ‘Can I help you?’

That deadpan repetition of phrasing was a smack between the eyes, but he fully deserved it. Stephen forced himself to straighten his shoulders and meet her eye.

‘You can let me apologise,’ he replied firmly. ‘Please.’

‘What does the man who saved the world with the power of Groundhog Day have to apologise to me for?’ That came out drier than a fifty year-old bourbon, but he was too sharp to miss the slight snap of amusement in her tone as well.

‘I – ah-‘ he tried to regroup, not least because that analogy hadn’t occurred to him before and it was all he could do not to burst into entirely inappropriate laughter ‘-I know we’ve met before. You probably have reason to recall. I didn’t really understand your sudden – uh – interest when you were just giving me a book, but-‘

‘-but you’ve not got a good ear for voices?’ she finished, folding her arms and arching one perfect eyebrow, which was a trick he envied the moment he saw it. ‘And it’s taken you nearly four _months_ , with a short break to outwit the evil master of the Dark Dimension in the middle, to realise?’

‘That’s about the shape of it,’ he admitted. ‘Although it’s less a problem with recognition and more that of being an inexcusably self-centred asshole. Hence the swallowing my pride and, well…the apologising part.’

‘Hmm. Winter’s here already?’ The mirth was unmistakeable now and was accompanied by such an enticing hint of playfulness that he found himself cracking a small grin in response.

‘It’s been a lot less than two years, at least.’

‘Oh, full marks.’ Now she seemed to be trying not to break into a grin herself. ‘Things were looking grim…’

‘ _The Ramones_ , 1979, although I’m trying to express remorse about something considerably more sensitive than the lack of commercial success of a music album.’

‘Hmm.’ Sitting down on the end of the bed, she crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms. ‘Really.’

‘Really.’ Stephen took a couple of steps towards her and then paused. The near-haughty look on her face was underwritten with an undeniably impish air but the intimation was largely unmistakeable. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘For what?’

‘For-‘ then he caught on, again had to bite back a grin, and made a small show of sweeping the cloak out behind him as he went down onto one knee in front of her ‘-I’m sorry, truly sorry, for being so up my own ass when we first met that I was rudely oblivious, insultingly dismissive, and offensively idiotic. It was deplorable, shameful and utterly indefensible, but I sincerely hope not completely unforgivable-‘

‘All right, that’s enough.’ She was grinning openly now. ‘Do you always sound like you’ve swallowed a thesaurus, or just when you’re trying to improvise grandiose apologies?’

‘It varies.’ He stood again as she did, but when she held her hand out to shake he instead took it in one of his, inwardly cursing the ever-present tremors, and turned it over to kiss the back.

‘Smooth,’ she said with a chuckle. ‘Been practising that long?’

‘Not in the five minutes it took me to barrel through the portal doors back here from New York and extract your name from Wong, certainly.’

‘You work fast.’

‘Only when speed is of clear situational benefit,’ he shot back with a wink, earning another chortle, but to his relief she also shuffled up and patted the bed to indicate for him to sit next to her.

‘And are you always this shameless, Sorcerer-Doctor Stephen Strange?’

‘That depends.’ He risked putting his palm onto hers. ‘Are you a fan of shameless and impulsive? It might be either an ingrained character trait or a shocking one-off anomaly.’

To his lasting delight that got an open peal of laughter, upon which the Cloak of Levitation took it upon itself to wrap a crimson furl around her.

‘I see your relic is putting the moves on too,’ she said dryly, reaching up to tweak at one of the collar clasps.

‘I apologise for its forwardness.’ Stephen resisted the urge to slap the blasted thing down, then realised she didn’t seem to mind and was in fact still smiling. Figuring that maybe the damned cape knew what it was doing after all, he gingerly lifted his arm to settle it around her shoulders and felt an unexpectedly pleasant flip in his stomach when she allowed herself to be tucked easily against his side.

‘So,’ she said after a moment. ‘Other than a penchant for the dramatic, a streak of unlikely heroism and a decent taste in classic punk music, is there anything I should know?’

That made him laugh in turn and the next thing he knew the sun was edging up from the horizon, and the two of them were not so much sitting as sprawled companionably together on the narrow bed, still talking easily like they’d known each other for years. As the first rays of the dawn began to peek through the shutters he abruptly realised, with a small spasm of guilt, that he’d left the sanctum unattended for well over five hours.

‘I really ought to be getting back.’

‘Of course.’ She stood when he did. ‘I suppose asking when I’ll see you again is more than a little cliché, but…’

‘Soon,’ he assured her firmly. ‘Very soon. I admit I never gave much credence to the idea of soulmates before, but then I’ve also never met anyone else with a comprehensively encyclopaedic knowledge of classic rock music before.’

She laughed.

‘In fairness I’d never given any real thought to it either, but when it all but slaps you in the face – well, the ears, at least – it’s hard to dispute.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t realise sooner. There really is nothing to blame but my own egotism.’

‘Hmm. Which gives me something _terribly_ useful to hold over you for the foreseeable future.’

‘I’ll certainly bear that in mind.’ He made for the door, reluctantly, but couldn’t stop himself from turning back before he opened it. ‘Tomorrow evening? I’ll try to aim for a more sociable local time.’

‘Not many men get to say they kept me up all night on a first date,’ she replied with a wink.

‘…I’ll bear that in mind, too.’ He fought down a grin and turned back to the door, then thought better of it and looked at her again. ‘You know, if I leave this room without kissing you I can’t help but think I’ll have-‘

He didn’t get any further because her lips arrived on his, painfully sweet but far too brief.

‘Tomorrow, then,’ she said when they broke off, and it was all he could do to mumble an affirmative and hasten from her room back to the portal doors.

His stomach was fluttering like some idiot schoolboy, to the point that he couldn’t concentrate on anything properly for the rest of the day, so ended up collapsed into bed on his back grinning absently, and more than a tad moronically, at the ceiling while thinking about her. Going from a cold start – well, less than a cold start, given his earlier proclivities – to feeling like this wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with. In fact it seemed rather ludicrous, logically speaking, but the warmth in his chest whenever he thought of her wouldn’t be denied and didn’t seem to give a rats ass how utterly absurd it was from an intellectual or common sense point of view.

Eventually he fell asleep but woke as usual a little after seven the following morning. After some quick mental math he realised that it was around six in the evening in Kathmandu and thus a far more civilised time of day to call on someone, so hurried quickly through his morning routine before heading downstairs.

He stopped short at the sight of her sitting in the sanctum’s compact kitchen with an empty cup of tea at her side.

‘Good morning, Stephen.’

‘Uh. Hi.’ Then, at her apparent repose, he frowned. ‘Have you been here long?’

‘Half an hour or so.’ She stood and smiled. ‘I would have come up to join you in bed but that cloak of yours was lurking about by the door with a vaguely territorial air so I didn’t want to risk it.’

‘You-‘ he tried valiantly to battle down the rather salacious images that comment provoked ‘-you’ve just been sitting here for half an hour?’

‘Not _just_ sitting. I had some tea.’ Stepping up so close to him that their bodies almost touched, she lifted one of his hands in both of hers and traced her fingers slowly over the scars. ‘Since the master of a sanctum isn’t supposed to leave it unguarded, I thought it might be best to come to you. Sorry I’m early. I’ve been waiting thirty-eight years plus four _very_ frustrating months so-‘

He kissed her, firstly because it seemed like the only sensible response and secondly because it felt like he couldn’t possibly bear _not_ to for a second longer. She tasted exquisite, her lips soft and pliant against his own, and without a second thought he slipped his tongue along the seam of her mouth, feeling his heart rate spike as she willingly opened up to him. One kiss became another, and another, and before registering any conscious decision he reached out to pull her properly into his arms.

It was a few minutes before they broke off again, both slightly breathless, and Stephen found himself entirely disinclined to let go of her. From the way her palms were resting on his chest, lightly grasping the lapels of his robes, the feeling was apparently rather mutual.

‘I’m not normally this presumptuous,’ he said. ‘Feels like that needs saying.’

‘Well, I’m not normally this forward,’ she replied with a smile. ‘One hears things about mutual soulmate meetings but it all sounds like such nonsense until it actually happens.’

‘This is all…sudden, I know, and if you wanted to slow down or – or stop-‘

‘Hmm. Take things sensibly and ease into the whole thing like logical and prudent grown-ups?’ Her eyebrow arched and the smile went lopsided. ‘Screw that. I want you. I have from the second I recognised your voice. Not my fault you’re a little slow on the uptake.’

‘Something I fully intend to make up for, I assure you.’ He kissed her again, lingeringly, and then by unspoken agreement they both hastened back upstairs. Flinging the heavy curtains back across the window, he flicked the lamp on with a gesture and then pulled her to him again, cupping her face in his shaking hands to kiss her more thoroughly. She gave a soft little chuckle against his mouth and then began to sneak pecks along his jawline before dropping her head to mouth at the side of his neck, working back around to the hollow of his throat as he tried desperately not to squirm.

‘If this is an attempt at manly stoicism,’ she said against his chin, ‘It just became my mission to break it.’

‘I’m not trying to-‘ he cut himself off with a low groan when her lips found the sensitive spot just below and behind his right ear. Her touch was now dragging slowly down his chest to trace little curlicue patterns around the front buckle of his belt. When she flicked it open and gave a deft tug that sent the whole lot, sash and all, tumbling to the floor, he blinked in surprise.

‘Huh.’

‘Too fast for you, Stephen?’ she asked with a little wink, sliding one hand up to part the neck of his robes and delicately plucking at the kirtle bindings underneath until there was bare skin under her fingertips.

‘Not at all,’ he responded, as delighted as he was surprised at her enthusiasm. When she stepped up so their bodies finally came into contact he abruptly realised that she was almost the perfect height for him. All he needed to do was dip his chin a little and she was right there…

‘Never kissed a guy with a goatee before,’ she murmured against his mouth.

‘Not a problem, I hope.’

‘Hardly.’ Tilting her head on one side to allow him to trail his mouth down her neck in turn, she gave a little sigh before turning to catch his lips in hers again. ‘In fact I can definitely see the benefits of a little beard burn.’

That made him chuckle but it turned into a slightly strangled sound of astonishment when she dropped her hand to untuck the wrappings of his pants and dipped straight inside, taking his swelling cock in her palm without so much as a by-your-leave.

‘Well. _Mazel tov_ , Stephen,’ she said into his ear, which nearly made him choke. The teasing little caresses she was running up and down weren’t helping much, either.

‘Thank you,’ he managed, a little embarrassed at the outright gulp that followed. ‘Not that I don’t appreciate the – ah – direct approach, but it’s been a while-‘

‘Mmm. For me too.’ Then, before he could quite compute what she was about, she gave him a little push so the back of his legs hit the end of the bed, obliging him to sit down, and dropped to her knees in front of him.

‘What are – _oh god_ -‘ all coherent thought of protest and much else vanished from his head as her mouth engulfed him. Both of his hands flew to tangle in her hair on blind reflex and he gasped when she gave a twist of her tongue that made his hips jerk violently.

When she looked up at him with a snap of outright mischief in her gaze visible through barely-lowered lashes he let his head fall back with a groan, utterly lost. She puffed out her cheeks and sucked again, repeating the swirl of her tongue, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to push himself further down her throat.

‘It really has…been a while…’ he forced out, feeling his eyes roll into the back of his head as the tip of her tongue traced down the vein on the underside of his cock before flickering across the head. Nothing else came out as she leaned in further, shifting her free hand to cup his balls and burying him full length into her mouth so he could feel the back of her throat. With a low, moaning gasp he came hard, lightning shooting up and down his spine as she swallowed twice, giving several last little kitten licks to clean him off before finally drawing back.

‘Oh my god.’ He had to lean on one arm to stop himself toppling backward, still struggling to get his breath back and regain some semblance of composure. ‘Why did you…’

‘Taking the edge off,’ she said with a grin, kneeling up to kiss him. The taste of brine lingering in her mouth was unexpectedly erotic and he leaned in to prolong it.

‘Consider it most thoroughly – ah – off,’ he assured her when they finally broke off, but she didn’t reply except to slide her mouth back down his chest and softly bite at his pectoral, with just enough application of teeth for the frisson of pain to add to rather than dampen arousal. ‘And I – _oh_ – I think you’re still far too dressed, by the way…’

‘Feeling a little vulnerable, _doctor_?’ she teased, but did back off and stand, stripping her robes off immediately with an impressive level of self-possession. In seconds she’d even doffed her boots and was completely, gloriously naked in front of him, wearing nothing but a little smile.

He’d never seen anything so gorgeous before in his life.

Something in Stephen snapped and he lunged, wrapping his arms around her and turning them both so she landed on her back on the bed. Rapidly shedding the remains of his own clothing he clambered up over her with rather more haste than elegance, dropping his head to swallow her half-formed protest in another kiss. The feel of her bare skin pressed up full length against his was beyond heavenly, and he found himself shifting, dipping his head so he could lavish attention on every inch of her with his mouth.

She give a little sigh when he fastened his lips around one nipple, teasing it to a hardened point before switching to do the same to the other, and braced himself on one elbow so he could slide his other hand down the tantalising curves of her body to the apex of her thighs. Cursing the clumsiness of his damaged fingers, he probed carefully at the wetness there and slid his thumb across the nub of her clitoris, earning a gasp as she clutched at his arms. Suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to make her come undone in turn, he slithered down trailing kisses in his wake, between the vale of her breasts, dipping his tongue briefly into her belly button and smiling against her skin at the pleasingly girlish giggle that elicited. Finally he moved to kiss her right hip, turning his face towards the tight thatch of curls between her legs. She smelt musky; a heady, earthy aroma, and without further preamble he slid his nose through her folds before latching onto her clit.

‘Oh my _god_ -‘ she exclaimed, clearly not having expecting that. Grinning, he flicked the swollen nub with the tip of his tongue before suckling on it again, which got a low curse as one of her hands flew down to tangle through his hair. A flicker of a frown crossed his brows, however, as he reached over her thigh and caught sight of his trembling, broken fingers. This was going to be trickier than usual without the dexterity he’d had at his disposal the last time he’d been in bed with a woman.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked with a hint of anxiety, and he adjusted his gaze up to her face with a quick smile of apology for the impromptu pause.

‘Not at all. I just – ah – the last time I did this I had full use of my hands. And you,’ he added, planting a lingering kiss on the insight of her thigh, ‘Are by far the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, soulmate or not, so-‘

‘Then may I make an extremely kinky and probably rather inappropriate confession?’

‘Uh. Sure?’

‘I saw your hands. When I gave you the book.’ She shifted a little and nibbled at her lower lip. ‘And I’ve been wondering how it would feel. To have them inside me. The ridges…the scars…’

He blinked, for a moment a trifle unsettled at how scintillating it was to know that she found his wrecked hands in any way sensual rather than repulsive. Something dark and promising pulsed low in his belly and he felt a smirk creep unbidden onto his face.

‘Well, since you’re asking so nicely I can hardly refuse, can I?’

‘It won’t hurt you?’ There was very real concern there, which he found oddly touching.

‘They’re more stiff than sore. No,’ he re-iterated when she made to speak again, and tried to inject a measure of reassurance into his smile, ‘It won’t hurt.’

‘If you’re sure – _ooh_!’ This was as he bent back to it, swirling his tongue around her nub before gingerly working his index finger into her pussy. Even with the nerve damage she felt divine, and his cock twitched where it had already begun to harden again. Adding a second finger, he crooked both up carefully, feeling slowly around until she hissed in pleasure and pushed back against him. Chortling softly, he resumed nursing at her clit while gently thrusting his fingers, being sure to hit the right spot each time, until with a cry she arched against his mouth and rewarded him with a fresh flood of moisture. He broke into a grin against her flesh.

 _Still got it_.

Nonetheless, only an amateur would be satisfied with a single orgasm from such a lovely woman so he resumed licking gently around her folds, teasing the inside of her pussy with the tip of his tongue while tracing around the hood of her clit with a shaking finger and thumb. She was positively squirming beneath him now, chest heaving as she panted, and he felt rather than saw her legs start to tremble as she came apart again.

‘Oh, god…Stephen-’ she tugged at his hair, pulling him back up for a kiss while hooking one comely leg up and around his waist ‘- _please_. Need you.’

Well, who was he to refuse such a demand? Shifting to re-angle himself, he reached down and grasped his cock to guide it into her waiting warmth. A groan escaped him as he sank down until he was completely bottomed out, taking a moment to luxuriate in the delicious pressure that swallowed him up. When he could stand it no more he levered himself up on one elbow to better see her face and braced his other forearm on the pillow beside her head to draw slowly out and push back in. Her eyes slid closed in obvious ecstasy and he bent to kiss her.

‘Look at me,’ he breathed. ‘Please.’

Lashes fluttering, she obediently locked gazes with him as he began to rock back and forth, finding a rhythm that had them both gasping and clutching at one another. Her other leg came up, ankles locking together in the small of his back, and with a low curse he plunged in more deeply, swivelling his hips to vary the sensation and keep friction on her still-sensitive clit. One of her hands settled on the back of his head while the other clawed at his shoulder, silently urging him on.

The rising warmth in his gut was stoked to a fierce blaze now and with a loud grunt he drove his cock home one last time, snaking his hand down to pinch at her clit and prolong her orgasm as she writhed and grabbed at him. The perfectly vicious clenching of her inner walls undid him and he buried his face into her neck as he came, lost to a splutter of helplessly irregular, shallow thrusts until the last spasms of furious pleasure finally died away.

Reluctantly he shifted to withdraw from her, shivering a little at the pale echo of sensation the movement produced, but couldn’t bring himself to do much else as she took his face in both hands to kiss him deeply.

‘I really never believed in soulmates, Stephen,’ she murmured, so close that he could feel her lips moving against his when she spoke. ‘Not until I heard your voice. But now…’

‘I know.’ Rolling onto his side, he wrapped his arms around her to hold her close and nuzzled at her forehead. ‘I’m such an idiot. Will you ever forgive me for the time we lost?’

‘Keep making it up to me like that and maybe we can come to an agreement,’ she retorted playfully.

‘Duly noted.’ Grinning unashamedly now, he reached down to tug the blanket up over them both as she burrowed against his chest. ‘Oh, by all means, make yourself comfortable.’

‘I plan to.’ Sighing in clear contentment, she tugged his hand up and planted a kiss on his palm. ‘After waiting this long I’ll be damned if I’m going to just slink off back to that lonely cot in Kathmandu now.’

‘I’d be highly offended if you did.’

‘Hmm. So much for not believing in soulmates.’

‘I didn’t used to believe in a lot of things, before Kamar-Taj.’ Settling onto the pillow, he brought his free hand up to trace his fingers across the back of her neck. ‘Certainly not anything to do with fate. But now-‘ the realisation was rather shocking, even as he vocalised it ‘-I’m almost _glad_ of that damned car crash.’

‘Glad? That you lost your entire _life_ from before?’

‘Well, in return I got you.’ Turning to rest his cheek on the top of her head, he smiled again. ‘Slow on the uptake as I was, I’d still call that more than a fair trade.’

‘Romantic,’ she accused laughingly, and he grinned.

‘Now, about this kink of yours…’


End file.
